


Rimjhim

by jesusonaunicycle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesusonaunicycle/pseuds/jesusonaunicycle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean thinks of the word rimjhim, he smiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rimjhim

He had a knack for finding words that weren’t in proper dictionaries. He liked that obscurity, the idea that he had this knowledge of a world and a language that was completely his own. He’d take slang from different languages, or words that couldn’t even be passed off as English, and string them into his conversations and wait until someone asked about one. He loved teaching his friends--their friends--about it, about the definition, the word's heritage and then the _meaning_ of each word. He had a list of favourites, too, like a child would have a favourite candy.

He liked _rimjhim_ , a lot. That was Dean’s favourite, too, if he was being honest. Not because of the way the word sounded, or the definition of it, but the way Cas had explained it to him.

It was blue-grey in his room; he and Cas were curled up in his bed, unashamedly cuddling because that’s what people do in a relationship, goddamn it.

It was cold, and rainy, and just a day for staying warm and in bed sipping on coffee or hot chocolate and watching classic movies (or, in Cas’ case, reading). Dean had his nose in Cas’ dark, fluffy mess that he called hair that smelled of his organic shampoo and sleep-sweat and Castiel, a smell Dean could never truly define.

It was stupid, but Dean always imagined Cas to smell like rain clouds.

Dean had just woken up, his eyes still sleep-heavy and his limbs loose and warm, just the way he liked it. Cas’ back was pressed up against his chest, radiating heat like a goddamn furnace.

“Good morning, Dean,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. Cas almost never spoke in the morning, not until he’d gone for his early run and had a cup of coffee or tea. When he did speak, it was usually in monosyllables and he was distinctly grumpy.

That morning, though, he was talkative. Well, as talkative as a sleepy Castiel could be.

Dean suppressed his yawn by smiling into Cas’ hair, taking a deep breath before responding, “Mornin’, Cas.”

Dean felt rather than saw his boyfriend’s smile. Cas always lit up when he smiled; the room seemed twice as brighter with it-- _Dean_ seemed twice as brighter with it. Elated and still a bit tired, Dean kissed the top of Cas’ head and rubbed along his sleep-warm side.

Both boys went to bed bare chested, now. Only when one of them was sick did they wear a shirt to sleep, and it was usually the other’s clothing because they had to sleep separately.

“You’re up early,” Cas murmured, catching Dean’s roving hand and twining their fingers together. When Dean huffed out a protest, Cas simply chuckled. “It’s not even daylight, Dean.”

“How would you know?” Dean retorted, his voice muffled by his lips moving down the back of Cas’ neck. “It’s rainin’. Everything’s all blue and grey.”

Goosebumps popped up on Castiel’s skin at the sensation of the kisses. Snorting, he rubbed his cold feet against Dean’s calves in retaliation, causing the other man to flinch and yelp. “Jesus, Cas!”

“And cold,” Cas added with laughter in his voice, and if they got in a tickling fight after that, well. It was a good morning, after all.

When they had finished tickling each other, that had somehow turned into a little bit more, Dean’s head had ended up in the curve of Cas’ neck and shoulder. Cas’ fingers carded through his short hair, and the sound of rain tapping against the window filled the room that was silent except the sound of their breathing.

“ _Rimjhim_.”

“What?” Dean asked. He peered up at Cas from where he was laying, the angle awkward and Cas’ face barely visible. Just like before, though, Dean could tell Cas was smiling.

“ _Rimjhim_ ,” Cas repeated softly, his fingers still running through Dean’s hair, relaxing him. “It’s an Indian word. It means the sound of raindrops.”

Dean hummed at that, nuzzling against Cas’ neck. “It’s nice,” he said, almost whispering, just as Cas had been. “I like the way it sounds.” He meant that. He liked the way Cas’ voice pronounced the word, how it seemed to roll off his tongue. And how much it fit Cas.

In the years to come, Dean sometimes thought of that word, and smiled.

“Me, too.” Cas whispered, dropping a kiss on the top of Dean’s head. “It reminds me of you. Of us. I like these days, where I can lay in bed with you, listening to the rain. It’s… soothing.”

Dean smiled. “I get that.” He shifted up to face Castiel, sharing his soft smile with his boyfriend. “I like them too, Cas,” he murmured, catching his blue gaze with his own. When Castiel smiled, it was like a thousand butterflies erupted in his stomach. He remembered the first time this happened, when he was terrified of Cas leaving his bed, just because they had been ridiculously drunk the night before and hadn’t even gone out on a date, or even hinted at liking each other that way previously.

Apparently, however, Dean had been shit at keeping his feelings to himself for all those years.

Thankfully, so had Castiel.

Sam had cheered so loudly the day Cas and Dean broke the news to him, it had rattled the entire Bunker. He’d then promptly called Charlie and Kevin, declaring he’d won a bet and was owed two hundred dollars.

Three years had passed since that day, and they had been steady throughout. Well, of course there had been fights, and days without speaking. But they’d always managed to patch it up, somehow. Through the fights, the life-threatening situations, the carnage and death, they were each other’s rocks. Cas never left, and neither did Dean. They became inseparable.

Eventually, they started taking less and less jobs. Sam met a girl that lived in Kansas. Charlie and Kevin ended up getting an apartment together, with Charlie’s girlfriends in and out and Kevin working on getting back into college.

Dean and Cas… Well, they stayed at the Bunker. But they were weaning off the hunting life, just as they thought they would: slowly, but steadily, struggling to keep it slow since that first night

That smile, the one Cas had given him just then, made everything fade away. It was simple, unadulterated happiness, and got him more drunk than he’d ever been, made him higher than he’d ever could have hoped to be, and he was still sober. He was fucking sober, and he was happier than he’d ever been in his entire life.

He’d kissed him, then. Dean told Cas everything he was thinking--the gratitude, the happiness, the relief, the love--he told him that with his kisses, since he didn’t trust his words. The phenomenal thing was, was that Cas understood him.

The thing about Cas was that he’d always understood Dean better than anyone. They should have been polar opposites; always fighting, never agreeing on anything and always just stuck in the same damn place. But that hadn’t been it at all.

Eventually, Dean had gone back to sleep when Cas had gotten up for his morning run. It was routine, and Dean never bothered with it. Castiel had explained it to him, once, at the beginning. The beginning, where Cas was just trying to adjust to being human. He told him that running made him feel like he was flying again.

Dean couldn’t argue with him. His policy on running was to only do so when something was chasing you, so maybe he couldn’t understand that, but he understood Cas’ need to.

When Dean woke up again that day to find Cas’ place in the bed next to him empty and a little cold, he didn’t think anything of it. Cas’ place was always empty and cold when he woke up in the mornings, but he was always in the kitchen, either freshly showered and in sweatpants or in his jogging kit.

Sleepy-eyed and finally able to function at the reasonable hour in the morning, Dean padded barefoot into the kitchen, calling his boyfriend’s name, only to hear his own voice echoed back to him. Frowning, Dean looked up to find no one in the room at all.

“Cas?” Dean called again, louder; maybe Cas was in the shower. But he hadn’t heard the water running when he passed the door.

Confused and a little worried, Dean waited an hour before he started calling Cas’ mobile. When he didn’t pick up, Dean was dressed and ready to head out the door to find him. He could have fallen during his run, or maybe a monster had grabbed him, or similar thoughts swirled around in Dean’s mind, making him dizzy. He almost dropped his phone when it rang, but he managed to unlock it and answer.

“Hello?” Dean said into the phone, and he hated how his voice sounded; thick, worried and just a little broken.

“ _Oh, Dean_ ,” Charlie’s voice whispered into the receiver. It was obvious she had been crying. Immediately, Dean’s thoughts went to worst case scenarios. He didn’t exactly push Cas out of his mind, but his protective instinct kicked in.

“Charlie? Are you okay? Is Kevin alright?” he asked urgently, clearing his throat.

There was a long silence over the phone, before Charlie’s breath rattled through the line. “ _Dean. Dean, the hospital just called. M-Me and Kevin, we’re fine. It’s not us that they called about_.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I-Is Sammy okay? I thought he was--”

“ _Sam’s fine! I-It’s not Sam. I-It’s… Oh, God, Dean, I don’t know how to say this_ …”

Dean braced himself on the counter. If it wasn’t Kevin, or Charlie, or Sam… “Oh, God,” Dean whispered, fighting back tears.

“ _It’s Cas, Dean. H-He was hit, by a car, on his run. You know how he takes morning runs. H-He… They said he died on impact. I’m so sorry_.”

He didn’t remember groaning, like a tree under the heavy weight of a storm threatening to break. He didn’t remember slumping against the counter or dropping the phone, the tears running down his face. He did remember the pain, though. The pain that ricocheted up his ribcage, stuttering around his heart and eventually reaching his head. He remembered taking his head in his hands and trying to breathe, just to _breathe_.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there. It seemed like hours. Eventually, though, Charlie, Sam and Kevin came to get him. Sam had hauled him up and taken the brunt of the damage; a busted lip, a swelling eye. Together, they’d gotten him to the hospital to identify the body.

Seeing his Castiel, his angel, on that cold, metallic slab in that cold, sterile, grey room… It had broken him apart.

 

* * *

 

Now, Dean was standing in the rain outside of the Bunker, leaning up against the hood of the Impala. He didn’t mind the rain so much, now. In fact, he liked the way it smelled, the way it felt running down his face, off his eyelashes; he liked how it could be warm, or cold, or gentle or sharp. Today, the rain was cold, making goosebumps pop up on his skin. And Dean smiled.

He would be moving into the city, today. The Impala was all packed, and he’d be moving into an apartment with Charlie. Kevin had gotten himself a girlfriend and lived in the upstairs apartment above his old roommate, so it was obvious that Dean would be Charlie’s roommate, now.

It had been five years since he’d started dating Castiel. Two years since his death. Two years since he’d woken up next to him, with his ridiculously cold feet and monosyllabic good mornings. Two years since he’d had odd conversations with an ex-angel about the differences between Enochian and Latin jokes. Two years since he’d heard the word rimjhim, or words like it.

Six months since he’d finally stopped grieving.

Now, instead of flinching at the sound of Castiel’s name, or thinking of the emptiness Cas’ death brought, he thought of sleep-sweat and warmth and happy, _oh, God_ , such _happy_ smiles. He thought of blue-grey bedrooms, and cold feet, and tickle fights and passionate kisses. He thought of the smell of rain clouds. He thought of words that didn’t make sense, until you thought a certain way.

Now, when Dean thought of the word _rimjhim_ , he smiled. He smiled and he laughed, those sleepy-sweet chuckles that he used to do in the morning, and he leaned back against the hood of the Impala, closing his eyes.

He knew his angel was up in the sky, watching over him. He knew he’d always be there, just like his mother told him.

And he knew when he got to see his angel again, he’d have so many, many words to memorise, just for Castiel. His smile grew when he realised that he would, just because it’d make Cas smile.


End file.
